By Huwaila Muhammad
There are people who walk this earth like quiet giants never asking for recognition, but changing lives with every step they take. For me, that person has always been Baban Maama. He wasn’t just my grandfather he was my rock, my protector, my safe place, and without question, my favorite person on this earth.
I lost my father in 1984, too young to fully understand the depth of that loss. But strangely, I never truly felt the emptiness that should have followed because of Baban Maama. And yet, nothing prepared me for the depth of pain I felt when he passed. That emptiness, that ache i only came to know it after losing him.
I remember during one of our deep conversations, I looked at him and said, “Baban Maama, do you really understand the extent of what you’ve done for us?”
He looked surprised and asked, “How do you mean, Huwaila?”
I told him, “I barely remember my father because I was so young when he died. But you, you stepped in, you shielded us, nurtured us, gave us a childhood wrapped in love, strength, dignity, and unwavering support.”
At the time of my father’s passing, my mother was pregnant with my youngest brother, Ibrahim Ibrahim may his soul rest in peace. It was a moment of unimaginable vulnerability, when everything could have collapsed. But Baban Maama, you didn’t let it. You stepped in not because you had to, but because your heart wouldn’t let you do otherwise.
I told him, “Baba, Mama (my mother, your niece) and Hajiya Bara, never once had to worry about school fees, even though we went to private schools. You carried that burden. When my late brother was born just 40 days after my father’s death, no one worried about diapers or baby formula you took care of it all. We lived big, we travelled well. You gave us experiences we never even dreamed of and comfort we didn’t know we needed. Whatever we’ve become, it’s because of you. And for that, we are forever grateful.”
He smiled gently and said, “Your father was a good man, and Hajiya Bara my sister, she is my everything.”
And I told him then, “May Allah reward you a thousandfold for everything you’ve done for us.” I’m very glad i told him and if I had known I’ll have bare my heart to him. Baban Maama is a giver, his best moment is the expressions he sees after putting a smile on our faces.
One of the things that defined Baban Maama was his deep compassion for the less privileged. He would often ask, “How can we make life better for them?” And once he had an idea, he acted without hesitation quietly, selflessly, and wholeheartedly. No amount was ever too much, and no effort ever felt like a burden to him.
But what struck me most was his humility. No matter what he gave or how much he spent, he would always turn to me and say, “Huwaila, don’t tell anyone. This is between me and my God.”
That was Baban Maama. A man who didn’t just give, he gave with sincerity, dignity, and a sacred sense of purpose. His acts of kindness were never for recognition, only for the reward of the One who sees all.
His presence was and always will be the definition of stability. A man of few words, but actions that spoke volumes. I
n every way that mattered, he became everything we needed: a father, a grandfather, a counselor, a cheerleader, an anchor.
Even now, every cherished memory I have is threaded with his quiet sacrifices, his warmth, his laughter, his calm wisdom, and the kind of unshakable love that only he could provide.
He taught me that real strength is soft-spoken, and that the truest form of love is shown not in grand gestures, but in the consistent, often unseen acts of care.
To say I love him could never be enough. To say I owe him everything might come close.
Baban Maama, you are the man who ensured our story was not one of loss, but of love, legacy, and resilience. And for that, you will always remain my greatest blessing.
I pray to Allah, the Most Merciful,
to shower His infinite mercy upon Baban Maama, to illuminate his grave with light, to make his resting place a garden from the gardens of Jannah, and to raise him among those who will enter Jannatul Firdaus without reckoning, without account, and without hardship.
May his soul find peace, and may his legacy continue to earn him reward Ameen.
